


Pounced

by PoisonKisses



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonKisses/pseuds/PoisonKisses
Summary: Tigra gets bored easily.





	Pounced

He’s my prey, and he doesn’t even know it.

My tail swishes, lashing the air back and forth with a mind of its own. Since I grew it a few years back after a reintegration of the two halves of my soul, I’ve learned I’m not in charge of it. It twitches in my sleep, grows excited when I’m hunting, wraps around a convenient arm or leg when I’m attracted to someone (which is often,) curls around my lover’s neck when I’m having sex. It can be annoying, but it’s cute.

He, the he in this case being Steve Rogers--Captain America, is distracted, reading the newspaper (like anyone does that anymore, he’s so antiquated, and it would be dorky if he wasn’t so freaking gorgeous but also adorable,) and drinking a cup of coffee.

The light in the hall is dim, but I can see in anything but absolute pitch blackness. Each of my senses is fine tuned, I’m a predator, and not only can I see him so plainly I can watch the individual muscles ripple underneath his tight SHIELD tee shirt and the way his sexy, muscular butt sways under his jeans, I can smell him, track him, know that he’s already done a two hour workout and showered, as he smells faintly of soap and aftershave--he nicked himself, it’s minor, but the blood scent is in the air.

I’m stalking him, staying up high in the vaulted ceiling of the mansion’s main hallway, silent on soft footpads. I lick my lips, running my rough tongue over razorsharp fangs. I’m designed to kill, just like my namesake, powerful, lithe, furry, and armed with claws that can rip through steel and a bite that can puncture titanium. I can hear him, his heartbeat slow and steady in his chest, the cadence of an extreme athlete. He’s humming tunelessly, completely at ease.

The perfect prey.

I’m in full hunting mode, closing the distance. Steve’s reflexes are almost as fast mine, and if he even suspects I’m here, he could possibly turn the tables on me--not that being his prey might not be such a bad thing. No, none of that, I'm the one doing the hunting now. I have to choose my moment carefully. I suppress a giggle.

We’re not alone in the mansion. I know Jarvis is scurrying around here somewhere, another mouse, and up in their room I can hear Hank and Janet having another argument--raised voices. I always try to ignore them, but sometimes my cute, pointy ears pick up more than I’d prefer. They’re always fighting.

Thor is here, watching TV I think. I catch a distant booming laugh. No Bruce or Tony--they’re off and busy. It’s just as well, I like to be alone with my prey.

Steve turns a corner, angling toward the stairs and probably a trip to his room. Here’s my moment.

“RAWWWWR!” I leap the 40 feet with graceful ease, landing next to him and catching onto his shoulders. Captain America jumps, makes a noise that if anyone else were to make it, I’d call it a squeak, and newspapers and coffee fly.

I die laughing.

“Greer,” his voice is quiet and reproachful. I try to suppress my giggles at his strained tone, his disapproving glare, and the barest hint of a quirk on his lips, because he’s trying not to grin.

“Steve,” I mock his tone and make a grumpy face at him, which causes him to roll his eyes. “I think you need to stick to decaf.”

“Greer, we’ve talked about you pouncing people.”

“I pounce as a way of saying ‘I love you,’ Steve.” His expression is dubious. “You’ve got a little something on your…” I trail off, stand on my clawed toes, rest my fingertips on his broad, muscular shoulders, and run my tongue up the side of his face, licking off coffee. He tastes of Folger’s Choice, Old Spice, and a musky taste that can only be Steve. I know EXACTLY what effect I have on him, because when I sink back down to flat feet, his eyes are bulging and he looks like he’s been poleaxed.

I can be a bad kitty, sometimes.

“I...uh…” he manages. I grin, bite my lip, flirting with no safety net here and flashing fang at him, Then turn and walk off. I make sure to put a little extra sway in my hips and swish my tail dramatically on purpose. I don’t have to look back to know he can’t look away.

I think I’ll pounce Thor next.


End file.
